The Journal of Basil Hallward
by Sweet Cacophony
Summary: From the Oscar Wilde book "The Picture of Dorian Gray". I felt so bad for Basil while reading the book, I thought I should give it a go in expressing what he went through.
1. Entry One

A/N: I hope someone finds this in the midst of all the clutter of this site. It popped into my head and I felt I had to put it up here.

I saw the most glorious creature today.

His hair was spun gold, his eyes, deep sapphire. And his lips! Oh, his lips! They were the color of untainted scarlet. He was the perfect picture of youth and beauty. Or, perhaps, he _was_ beauty, for no mortal male have I ever seen look so absolutely perfect. His name? Dorian Gray.

I met him at Lady Agatha's party. The dear woman introduced me to the lovely boy, for he hardly looked old enough to be a man. We exchanged pleasantries and talked for the longest time. I was extremely reluctant to leave when the party began to come to a close. I had just scarcely met Dorian, and I feared we might not meet again. I could only hope that I could keep his image in my mind long enough to paint it. I didn't believe I would have to worry over such a thing, though, because I was inspired. When I become inspired, I do not give up so easily.

Dorian Gray is all that occupies my thoughts now. I must let him out, whether it be on paper or canvas. Is it so odd for someone to obsess over another like I am doing now? Perhaps afer I make an attempt of painting or sketch, he will leave my thoughts and give me peace. Then I may continue with my life.

Maybe that is too much to ask of myself. I do not want to forget a face such as his.


	2. Entry Two

Oh, dear Lady Agatha!

Mr. Gray and I had another chance meeting at her latest soiree. Nothing has dulled my obsession with the man. I've made sketches, done paintings, but he still stays in my mind. I think that if we meet again, I will ask him to sit for me. I hope he doesn't find that too incredibly odd.

I believe I have figured out why I cannot stop thinking about Dorian. I am drawn to his youthful innocence. He simply radiates it, and it has brought me to constantly ponder over him. I can't think that it is healthy for me, thinking of only one person most of the time.

There has been no one else to think of, though. Lord Henry has not come to speak with me for a long time, and all he has done lately is try to convince me to sell my work. I cannot explain to him enough that I don't like to do so. So, maybe it is for the best that he has not come by.

I suppose I will have to stand by while Dorian invades my thoughts. Perhaps he is my muse?


	3. Entry Three

Curse him!

Curse that infernal man that goes by the name of Lord Henry Wotton! Damn, blast, and damn again! He's ruined it, he's ruined everything! I knew something along these lines would happen, after all, Dorian is simply too good to be true. Everything has been going simply marvelous. My paintings have been better than ever as of late, and it is all due to Dorian and his beauty.

I suppose I should start at the beginning though, should I not? Well, it was just another day that Harry came to visit, and we had moved out to the garden to enjoy the day's splendor. I had, of course, mentioned dear Dorian before. How could I not? He has become my muse, my inspiration. He is what makes my art come to life. It was soon announced, in the middle of our chat, that one Dorian Gray had arrived for a visit.

Harry perked up at that, and somehow wormed his way into following me inside to meet him. I tried to send him off, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. I reluctantly led him back into the house, where Dorian sat at the piano bench. I introduced them, and they began talking. I had to remind Dorian that he had promised to sit for me, and prompt Harry to leave. Dorian wouldn't have it, though. He wanted the accursed man to stay. How could I refuse such a beautiful countenance? Harry stayed and began his talking of life and theories, and Dorian listened with nothing but admiration for the man. I could just see the thoughts changing all because of what Harry was spewing out of his lips.

He's ruined my Dorian! I just know he has! My muse, my inspiration, my friend. Yes, i my /i friend. This is why I didn't want anyone else to meet him. His innocent view of the world is what I love about him. I fear, however, that my friend has changed, and considering Lord Henry has done the changing, it is far worse than anyone else could have changed him.

Oh, Dorian. Stay true to me. Stay true to your friend Basil. He has promised to meet me for dinner at evening tomorrow. I hope to talk to him about Harry then.


End file.
